The morning sun hung high above the ruined village by the time they made their way back to Gorion's cottage. Their feet were heavy, not just with exhaustion, but with the weight of what they had witnessed—their childhoods turned to ash, and the truth of the attack revealed.
But there was no time for mourning.
At precisely ten o'clock, Gorion stood before them in the clearing behind the cottage, a rolled parchment in one hand and his staff in the other. His face was hard, businesslike, as if the ruins they had just walked from were already a distant memory.
"I won't waste your time with long speeches," he said. "If you're going to survive what's coming, you need to learn to move, to react, to adapt. So, we begin your first trial today."
Sylveras blinked. "Today?"
"Now."
Gorion unfurled the parchment—an old, hand-drawn map. Elara leaned closer to study the inked lines and faded notations.
"You will journey from here to the base of Mount Arkelos," he continued, tapping a symbol on the bottom edge of the map. "That's roughly a six-hour walk. You'll go without teleportation, without magical mounts, and without assistance."
Sylveras frowned. "Why not teleport us there like usual?"
"Because," Gorion said, eyes narrowing. "You won't always have the luxury of instant escape. You need to understand terrain, manage your energy, and make decisions without me holding your hand."
Elara nodded slowly. "What route do we take?"
Gorion pointed to the first mark. "You'll head east into the Mistwood. The locals call it the Fog Maze. Dangerous ground. The fog distorts sound and space. There are cliffs, hidden pits. People get lost and vanish."
"Charming," Sylveras muttered.
"Then," Gorion continued, ignoring him, "you'll follow the river upstream. When you see a tree larger than any other—gnarled roots like arms holding the sky—that's where you'll find the mouth of a cave. You must pass through it."
Sylveras squinted. "A cave? Sounds simple."
Gorion smirked. "It's home to a nest of goblin jail. Mischievous creatures. Not deadly, unless you're foolish… or loud."
He rolled the map up and handed it to Elara. Then, from within his robe, he pulled a small, silver amulet with a glowing rune.
"This is for you, Elara," he said. "If you're in danger—real danger—press this, and I'll come."
Elara took it with both hands, eyes wide. "Thank you."
Sylveras leaned forward expectantly. "And… mine?"
Gorion looked at him blankly. "You don't get one."
"Wha—what?" Sylveras stammered, mouth hanging open. "That's—what if I fall into a pit? Or get eaten by goblins? What if—"
"You'll be fine," Gorion interrupted with a shrug. "Elara is the one they're after. I need her alive."
Sylveras turned away dramatically, muttering, "Unbelievable. The favoritism is real."
Elara giggled quietly behind her hand.
Gorion's face softened for a moment. "Listen closely, both of you. I'm going to a Council meeting. With the attack on the village, they'll want answers. But I won't tell them everything. The fewer who know Elara survived, the better."
He looked at them both, suddenly stern. "No one must know about this trial. Not even the council. Especially not them. The one behind this attack fears being seen by the All-Seeing Eye. As long as they believe their plan failed quietly… we have time."
Sylveras grew serious again. "Do you think they're still watching?"
"Possibly. Which is why you must move carefully—and complete this journey on foot. I'll meet you at the foothills by four o'clock."
Gorion paused, then added with rare warmth, "You can do this. Both of you."
He stepped back, preparing his teleportation spell. A flicker of wind swirled around his feet.
"Remember," he said, "this is no longer training. This is survival."
With a flash of blue light, Gorion vanished.
Sylveras stared at the spot for a long second. Then turned to Elara.
"Well," he said, sighing. "Guess we'd better start walking."
Elara smiled faintly, tucking the amulet into her pouch and gripping the map tightly. "Let's go."
They turned toward the tree line in the distance. Fog already curled at its base like a living thing.
And with steady, uncertain steps, they began the long road ahead.